


Rain and Snow

by Onehelluvapilot



Series: Tumblr prompt fics [10]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:09:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: Since his father was killed, d'Artagnan has a bit of a problem with storms. Fortunately, Aramis knows how he feels.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay & d'Artagnan
Series: Tumblr prompt fics [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922554
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	Rain and Snow

D’Artagnan hated storms. As a child, he’d been frightened of the noise of the pounding rain and howling wind, though his fathers had always been there to comfort him, and now they just brought up bad memories. Taking a page from Athos’s book, he made for the nearest tavern as soon as the rain started with the intention of drowning his ability to remember anything beyond his own name.

He should have known it wouldn’t work. Before he could finish even half a bottle, he caught sight of his musketeer-blue capes being shed by the door and turned to see his friends coming in to take shelter from the rain. His hopes of them not noticing him were quickly dashed as Aramis waved and made his way over. He should have known the marksman’s sharp eyes wouldn’t miss anything.

“Hey pup!” Porthos greeted, clapping d’Artagnan on the shoulder. He sat down on one side of him, Aramis on the other, and Athos across from him. The grumpy hunter took his bottle of wine and took a long drink from it before calling the barmaid over to order another.

D’Artagnan tried to pretend everything was fine, but he couldn’t keep from flinching whenever lightning flashed through the dirty bar windows or thunder rumbled. Athos was always too far in his cups to notice, but Porthos clapped a hand on his shoulder and Aramis kept shooting him worried glances. Eventually the marksman got to his feet and came around the table to steer d’Artagnan off his bar stool.

“C’mon,” he said, steering him towards the door.

“Should I come too?” Porthos asked.

“No, you stick with Athos,” Aramis replied. He put his own hat on d’Art’s head, since the younger musketeer hadn’t received his commission and uniform yet, and wrapped him in his cloak before taking them out into the rain.

“Where are we going?” d’Artagnan asked, finally thinking to question it.

“Somewhere safe,” Aramis said. He kept one hand on his friend’s shoulder the whole time as he led them over a few streets up into an apartment. It was small, but clean and warm. The windows were closed tightly, and somehow, it was easier to forget the storm raging outside there than in the noisy and crowded bar. “Athos’s apartment,” Aramis explained, stripping off his soaked leathers before going to the cabinet to retrieve a dry shirt. “Closer than the Bonacieux house, I figured, and more private than the garrison. Besides, I figured you might not want to see Constance right now.” He was right, in a way. Aramis, ever the woman wooer, probably would think that he would be worried about her seeing him ‘weak’ whereas really, it simply would have ached too much to see her and not have her be allowed to comfort him in his fear. Though Aramis, who took off his cloak and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders instead, was doing a decent job of that himself.

“I’m not just a coward afraid of a little rain,” he piped up. He wouldn’t have his new friends pitying him.

“I know,” Aramis said simply. His tone could be mistaken for patronizing, but with his next words d’Artagnan realized it was actually understanding. “It was raining when your father was killed, right?” The younger man nodded. “I know weather can bring stuff up. I have the same problems with snow and cold, since Savoy.”

“Oh. But when we first met, there was snow, when we found those dead musketeers, and you seemed fine then.”

“I managed to put off the breakdown for Athos’s sake, but after he was safe Porthos had to spend most of the next day keeping me from getting lost in the memories.” He clapped a hand down on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “It’s the least I can do to pass along the favor.”


End file.
